


Blood, Flattery and Bombs

by AvaMclean



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Burn Notice
Genre: First Aid, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6499795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaMclean/pseuds/AvaMclean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiona only has a few people in this world she considers a friend and she isn't afraid to mock them for their apparent stupidity. Buffy is (un)luckily one of those few.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood, Flattery and Bombs

Title: Blood, Flattery and Bombs  
Rating: FR13

_  
Harvesting information from a hostile source can be difficult. The key is research. If you’ve done your homework then you won’t have to con anyone. If you haven’t then there are a few ways to gain information without resorting to torture—torture really should always be the last resort._

_If you know the right questions to ask and how to ask them they’ll be more inclined share. Implying you already know the answer is a good strategy and can put most sources at ease better than a shot of sodium thiopental._

_Remember, people like to talk. So let them talk._

* * *

Shot was not the easiest thing to dig out of one’s flesh with nothing more than a sharp-edged knife and some tweezers, but since Fiona’s time with IRA—and Michael—she’d become quite adapt at cleaning up messes. The bruised and bloody pattern told Fiona, better than Buffy, that the blonde had turned at the last instant and allowed the blast to strike her back rather than her chest. Blue eyes narrowed as she picked a random hole and used the dull edge of the blade to press down just above it and she watched as a bit of steel could be seen through the blood. 

Keeping steady pressure on the blade edge she worked the tweezers in and around the pellet before she tugged it down and out. Goosebumps prickled the flesh beneath her hands and she arched a brow before dropping the bloody bit onto a piece of gauze before turning to work on another hole. She kept her voice mild as she prompted, “I’m assuming next time you’ll call me before you get shot?” 

A snort expanded her back, ribcage shaking as a chuckle worked its way from the blonde’s chest and she turned her head, presented Fiona with her profile as she retorted, “Cross my heart and—”

“Stop right there,” she ignored the knowing smirk spreading the younger woman’s mouth and Fiona pushed down sharply on the next hole. The corner of her mouth tugged inward in satisfaction as she spoke over Buffy’s hiss of annoyance, “You die often enough that I don’t think cliché one liners about it are the way to go.” 

“Cliché?” Buffy shifted, adjusting her arms against the counter as she explained, “Just because something’s classic doesn’t instantly make it cliché.”

“Tell that to Sam,” Fiona muttered and caught ahold of another shot. 

“Who?”

Ignoring the question Fiona tugged at the bit of metal and frowned as it stayed lodged just beneath the surface. She glanced at the blade and contemplated slicing across the hole to widen it and make working the pellet out easier. Her eyes narrowed before she ordered, “Hunch your shoulders.” 

The movement stretched the muscles and tightened the skin of Buffy’s bare back, leaking more blood onto her tile floor and forced the pellet forward and Fiona guided it out. “How’s it going back there?” 

“Slow and messy. Remind you of anyone?” 

“Bite me, Irish,” there was a pause, “What happened to your accent anyways?” 

Fiona focused on the next wound, as Buffy relaxed her shoulders, and went to work with the knife and tweezers as she explained, “I thought I’d take a stab at blending in.” 

“Could you not say stab when you’re holding a knife at my back?” 

A slow smile curved Fiona’s mouth. “Are you trying to flatter me?” 

“If I thought flattery worked.” 

A shrug worked her shoulders and Fiona sighed, easing back and arguing, “It works well enough.” 

Her head turned, presenting that profile again and Fiona watched her brow rise before she offered, “Flattery and things that go boom?” 

“Oh,” she purred the word before turning back to the task at hand and added, “Now you’re making sense.” 

Her back door opened and closed with a slam and Buffy was suddenly standing, hand stretched behind her as she created a small, but effective shield between Fiona and the entry to her kitchen. She stayed seated, transferring the blade to Buffy’s more than adequate hands as she wrapped her hand around a fingerprint-resistant grip and lifted her gun from between bloody gauze and pellets. 

“Fi?” Michael’s hesitant calling of her name stopped her from pointing the gun towards the door-less entry leading into the hallway. His voice was closer when he called her full name, “Fiona?”

“Kitchen.” She watched Buffy relax, but she didn’t loosen her grip on the knife until Michael was standing in that entry and his blue eyes widened before they narrowed and Buffy seemed to realize belatedly she was topless. 

An odd noise escaped her and the arm holding the knife rose to cross over her breasts, blade settling against her side and Michael shifted his study from her to Fiona with a raising of his brows. “Care to fill me in on why there’s a naked woman standing in your kitchen with a knife?” 

“I gave it to her.” Fiona caught Buffy’s shoulder and applied some pressure, guiding the blonde back onto the stool even as she ignored Michael’s exasperated sigh to smile at the blush steadily spreading across Buffy’s exposed back. 

Buffy turned, catching her chin on her shoulder as she gazed up at Fiona, green eyes just a little wide with embarrassment. “This is Michael?”

“It’s what I call him,” Fiona paused before adding, “usually.” She turned, caught Michael’s annoyed glare and flashed him an easy smile. “Michael, this is Buffy,” his mouth opened and she spoke over him, “she needs your help.”

* * *

_  
To build rapport with a source you need to read the type of person you’re dealing with so you’ll know what buttons to push to get them talking without the use of blunt instruments._

_If you’ve done your homework and push the right buttons you won’t have to use coercion and you’ll be able to lead your source into telling you all that you need to know. Granted, it’s not as simple as it sounds and if your hostile source is your significant other then you’ll want to tread carefully._

_Especially if she’s fond of those blunt instruments._

_Trust me.  
_

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Catlimere|BtVS, Burn Notice| _“I'm gonna go stand naked in the kitchen with a knife"_


End file.
